Can’t say what’s more invigorating this morning, bluebirds or coffee. Just glad to be here.
Thanksgiving update — I have a confession to make: My garlic and ginger alternative to green bean casserole, plucked from the New York Times, was a flop. The beans were tough, the garlic overwhelming, the ginger not chopped fine enough.
Many of them came home with me.
I suspect some defenders of green-bean casserole will be happy to hear this. I will concede that green-bean casserole is a reliable Thanksgiving dish and I will make some version of it next year, if I am trusted again with the side-dish assignment. I beg, though, for a compromise: OK on the canned mushroom soup, but can I swap the French-fried onions for bread crumbs?
I had a lovely time, by the way, at sister-in-spirit Susan’s house over the ridge, in the adobe home she built herself some 40 years ago to raise two sons. And her charming BFF, Ruth, who is 93 and took on with possibly ulterior motives the pumpkin pie-making duty, might have revealed a key to her amazing vitality: She always makes extra so she can have pie for breakfast the next day.
This morning was bright and shiny all around.
A foal was out with its unshod parents, looking for breakfast.
And my hiking pal Lori noticed that a jackalope had chomped down on his or hers.
Have a great day. And look both ways before crossing.
Even if you think you have the right of way.